Harry King
by PigZ
Summary: There wasn't only a prophecy saying Harry could defeat Voldemort . . . He was made for so much more. Raised to be King from that Halloween night in 1981, Harry will try to restore magic to it's rightful place in the world-a place where witches and wizards don't need to hide who they are-a place where muggles have been eradicated and nothing but magic remains. -Dark! Powerful! Harry
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – My inspiration for this work of fanfiction has come from two other stories: Maydei's Supernatural fic "The Boy King" that can be found on Ao3 and Mistress Nika's Harry Potter fic "Curse of Fate" that can be found on .**

**I DO NOT know how often updates for this story will come. I will be trying to write at least 500 to 1,000 words a night, but with work and other things going on I don't know how often I will have the time. However, I do intend to finish this fic because the idea for it has been stuck in my head for months and I have most of it planned out; it will be rather long.**

**This is in no way a crossover with Supernatural but it does take many aspects from the Supernatural plot. I have tweaked them to make them more Harry Potterish.**

**That's all I have to say for now.**

**I hope you enjoy.**

Prologue:

Halloween night used to be a celebrated event in wizarding society. Families would gather together around huge bonfires and perform rituals to honor their dead loved ones. Festivals were held to celebrate and pay respect to all magical ancestors. Magic itself used to be a religion; it had been worshipped and had been viewed as the gift that it was… Now it was a disgrace.

Instead of festivals and celebrations being held, it was a night to give out sweets, a night to play dress up and silently judge your neighbors; Halloween had turned Muggle and it made the man staring out at the street from the living-room window of a cottage in Godric's Hollow want to vomit.

The man watched, invisible, as the special, beautiful, magical children wandered through the streets, going door to door with their disgusting muggle neighbors, dressed as characters from muggle fiction and history because their parents thought it was _cute_.

It wasn't. There was nothing special, or adorable, or _cute_ about an entire group of people believing that people like him should be purged from the earth, nothing adorable about a group of people who would sooner have the groups of magical children they were unknowingly laughing and playing with burn in eternal fire for being who they are rather than accept them into the world.

He had been wishing for something to happen, something to change the balance and to restore magic back to its rightful place, and tonight, after years and years of waiting, it had finally come. Upstairs, sleeping peacefully in his tiny crib was magic's salvation, and in a few hours, he would begin his journey to restoring magic to the world.

As the man continued to stare out the window, a surge of hope filled him; there was still time for those special children wandering the streets to learn and be shown just how special they actually were. And since their parents didn't see fit to teach them, the King would.

After what seemed like hours of waiting at the window, staring out at the street and watching the leaves blow through the chilly, night air, He appeared.

He arrived at the end of the street, unnoticed by everyone but the man waiting for him. He wore his standard black robes that blew with the wind and a hood covering his face and head, leaving nothing visible except his crimson eyes.

The man in the cottage smiled as Lord Voldemort began making his way towards him; he watched as two magical children dressed as pumpkins approached him and seconds later began running as fast as they could in the opposite direction. When Voldemort arrived at the iron fence surrounding the cottage, the man turned away from the window and began to silently walk up the stairs.

He moved through a hallway that was lined with pictures of the Potter family; James and Lily during their Hogwarts years, James with Sirius at his and Lily's wedding, James hugging Lily from behind with his hands laying gently on her obvious baby bump, James and Lily at St. Mungo's, holding their new twin babies, giant smiles on each of their faces as they gazed down at their children. The man felt a tiny pang of regret for what was about to happen before he quickly locked it away; it was regrettable what was about to happen, but it was absolutely necessary. One families happiness was not more important than the entirety of magic.

The man went to the end of the hall and entered the room on the right just as he heard the front door being blasted open. _Always one to make an entrance, that one._ He chuckled silently to himself as he walked over to the crib. He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb gently over Harry Potter's cheek. The boy twitched a little and yawned, but he stayed asleep. The man then looked at the other boy, Adam, and didn't know what to feel. On one hand, the boy was magical and the future King's brother; by normal standards the boy should be treasured. However, on the other hand, he was the one prophesized to be the King's greatest enemy and the only one who could stand in the way of the King's success. Still, the man reached over and gently touched Adam's cheek too, as a silent goodbye, before moving away from the crib and heading towards the corner of the room and standing by a bookshelf.

He strained his ears, and as he listened to Voldemort make his way up the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder what had been so important for the Potter's to leave their children alone in the house. He knew they believed them safe because of the Fidelius, but still… He had expected them to be here tonight, but he was glad they weren't. The less magical blood spilt the better.

He saw Voldemort enter the doorway, yew wand in hand. His eyes flashed around the room taking in every detail from the color of the curtains to the types of toys scattered across the floor. The man remained unnoticed.

When he perceived no threat, Voldemort entered the room and slowly made his way to the crib, as though hesitant to proceed. When he got to the edge, the man's heart began to beat faster in his chest. Adrenaline was pumping through his body as his excitement grew and grew. He was only waiting for the—

Voldemort raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and tilted his head to the side. A second later he said the curse: "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The bolt of green light flew from his wand, illuminating the entire room in deathly green light, and hit Harry directly in the face. The curse remained connected to Harry as he woke up screaming and crying. A second later, the killing curse launched itself from Harry's face and flew back towards Voldemort.

The man watched as the reflected killing curse struck a surprised and unprepared Voldemort in the chest. His body was entirely consumed by the green light. He screamed and screamed as his whole body began to crumble and turn to dust. His wand and robes fell to the ground beside the crib and all that remained of Lord Voldemort was the spirit fleeing the cottage as fast as it could and the fractured piece of soul that attached itself to Harry.

As soon as Voldemort was gone, the man burst out a laugh filled with victory and triumph. He ran from the corner over to the crib. He bent down, picked up Voldemort's wand, and stashed it in his cloak. He then carefully reached into the crib and lifted Harry into his arms, completely ignoring Adam who was crying just like his brother.

"Shhh, Harry. It's okay. He's gone. You got him." The man lightly bounced Harry in his arms as he continued to mumble nonsensical words of comfort to try and calm Harry down. It seemed to work because after a minute of constant babble, Harry stopped crying and tucked his head into the man's neck, falling asleep once more.

The man slowly reached his left hand up and lightly traced the outline of Harry's new scar. Only when he felt the magic radiating from it did he turn around and look at Adam.

The boy had tear streaks running down his face just like Harry did but the man offered no comfort. He just patted Adam on the head and muttered a "goodbye" before turning around and quickly exiting the room.

It was no question that the Potter's left some monitoring charms on the twins when they left that no doubt had been activated by Voldemort. He had to quickly get out of the house and escape with Harry before he was seen.

He ran down the stairs, careful not to be too fast in case he tripped and fell, and launched himself through where the front door had previously been—it was now a large pile of dust and debris on the living room floor. He exited the range of the Fidelius and, seconds before two terrified parents and an old headmaster arrived on the scene, Peter Pettigrew apparated himself and Harry Potter away.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing James noticed was the missing door. He could see into his living room and chunks of wood were laying on the floor in little tiny pieces. There were also a few piles of debris scattered throughout Lily's potion garden to the right of the doorway.

The second thing he noticed was the crying and he was immediately on alert. It was coming from inside the house and James knew it could only be his children. Fear like no other consumed him and before he knew it, he had his wand whipped out and was charging towards the house. Lily and Dumbledore were right behind him.

He raced through the living room and bounded up the stairs and through the hallway. He stopped just outside the door to the twins' room and felt the blood drain away from his face and something grip his heart; it felt as if someone were slowly stepping on it, gradually increasing the pressure until it was entirely crushed. His throat became so dry he almost choked just to swallow.

Lily screamed.

Dumbledore sucked in a breath.

Parts of the ceiling had fallen throughout the room, making it look as if a giant wooden spider was standing over it. Tiny wooden planks were covering the crib but that wasn't what terrified James the most. The source of his greatest fear was that he could only hear one of his children crying from underneath the wreckage.

He waved his wand through the air and started to vanish the wooden spider while Lily rushed passed him towards the crib. James quickly followed. He wanted to see inside the crib himself. He wanted to confirm that the only reason he was hearing one of his children cry was because the other had miraculously slept through the entire ordeal.

However, James felt reality crash over him as he got to the crib and fell to his knees a second later. He stared at the ground, the air completely forced from his lungs. He couldn't breathe at all and his vision started to blur. It took him a moment to realize he was crying.

Adam was in the crib. Not Adam and Harry, just Adam, and he was completely covered in blood.

Lily screamed again and it was the worst sound to have ever penetrated James' ears; it was a scream of pure anguish and it cut right through James' heart because this was completely his fault. He was the one to have switched secret-keepers to Peter. Sure, it may have been Sirius' idea for him to pose as a decoy, he he'd gone along with it. He had been the one to actually give Peter the secret.

James was brought back to himself when Lily lifted Adam from the crib. He watched as she began to examine every inch of his skin with her hands. Her fingers shook as they ran through all the blood. Lily kept talking to him through her tears, asking him what happened, if he was alright, and offering him words of comfort.

James knew he should have been doing the same, but he let Lily take care of it because something else caught his attention. His vision cleared and he saw he was kneeling in ashes.

"What the hell?" he mumbled.

He reached down to run his fingers through them but just as he was about to make contact, an old, wrinkly hand reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Don't," Dumbledore said.

James looked up at him in confusion, silently asking him why.

"If I'm right," Dumbledore began, "I believe you're kneeling on the remains of Lord Voldemort."

James cursed and sprang to his feet. Lily gasped. As if on auto pilot, James' hands began to smack the knees of his pants, starting to remove every particle of Voldemort and releasing them into the air. He could see them swaying through the air from the moonlight coming in from the hole in the ceiling above. Only when his hands stopped moving did it occur to him that he could have used his wand.

James watched Lily turn her head to face Dumbledore. Tear streaks ran down her red face and some of her hair was sticking to her forehead. Adam was clutched tightly to her chest; he'd stopped crying. Her eyes were begging Dumbledore to explain.

Dumbledore sighed. "I think one of your children managed to temporarily defeat Voldemort. I have no idea how it happened, but that is the most likely explanation. This room reeks of dark magic of the strongest kind and the largest source of it is coming from the ashes you're standing by James."

He nodded down to the floor and James looked again. He didn't know how he didn't notice them earlier because there were tons lying all over the floor, black and gray and starting to drift through the room.

Dumbledore continued speaking. "It is my belief that either Adam or..." he hesitated and that hesitance to speak his name was like a slap to the face. "...Harry did something and this is the result. Lily, James, I'm sorry. I don't know which twin it was but if I had to make a guess, I'd say it was Adam because..." Dumbledore trailed off; the rest went unspoken.

Adam was alive while Harry was gone, his ashes probably mixed in with those of Voldemort's and that, more than anything, made James angry. He wouldn't be able to separate them. He wouldn't be able to give his son a funeral and lay him to rest without burying a part of that monster with him.

"Peter is fucking dead," James swore, and he felt the magic in the air attach itself to his core, binding the vow he'd just made. He was going to kill Peter before his time was up.

"Peter?" Dumbledore asked, confused.

"Yes, Peter," James spat. "We didn't tell anyone, but we switched secret-keepers at the last minute. We thought Sirius could be a decoy while having the real secret lie with Peter. He's fucking dead."

"I'll help," Lily said firmly.

"James, Lily, I know how angry and upset you are, believe me, I know, but you still have a son to raise. A son who will grow up with the knowledge that he lived while his brother didn't. He will be known for ending Voldemort's reign of terror. His name and Harry's will probably go down in history because there is no way we can keep this a secret. You need to think about your family. Let me, the Order, and the Aurors handle this."

James wanted to curse him. He hated the words coming from Dumbledore's mouth because he knew they were the truth. That however, did not make the anger go away. It was burning away inside him, a growing storm of fire just waiting to erupt and consume Peter.

But James relented. He'd have time for that later. He had a son to raise. He signed and nodded. "You should know then that Peter is an animagus. A rat. We all learned the transformation in our fifth year when we found out about Remus."

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you for telling me James. I'm going to go get started on dealing with all of this. The ministry will be in an uproar. I'll contact Sirius and Remus for you and have them come as soon as possible."

James bobbed his head once.

Dumbledore turned and began to leave the room. He paused mid-step in the doorway and turned around once more. There were tears running from his eyes. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

James choked and sobbed and vomited up a "Yeah."

-x-

Peter reappeared with Harry inside the Shrieking Shack. Harry awoke from the apparition and began to cry again. He was no doubt in a lot of pain; having survived a supposedly unblockable curse and having a foreign piece of unwanted soul invade your forehead would do that to anyone, especially a one year old. The apparition sure didn't help matters either.

But it would pass; Harry wouldn't even remember it in a few years, at least consciously. His subconscious might keep a few aspects of this night with him and slowly reveal themselves as he gets older, but by then everything will have been explained to him and he'll understand.

The Shrieking Shack looked exactly as he and the other Marauders left it: scratch marks all over the floors, walls, and ceiling, a few cobwebs here and there that none of them bothered to remove, and the secret passageway leading to Hogwarts' grounds was hidden behind a dusty portrait of the lake.

Cradling Harry with one arm, Peter reached into his robes and removed his own wand. He flicked it towards Harry and a second later, Harry stopped crying and fell into a deep sleep, his breathing returning to normal. A few more flicks and Harry was completely clean again, all traces of blood, tears, and debris vanished. He gave one final flick and Harry disappeared from sight, becoming nothing but an invisible weight in Peter's arms.

Peter stored his wand beneath his robes once more and with another thought, became invisible; it would not do to be seen, it could ruin everything.

He slipped the portrait aside with his free hand and began the journey through the dark, underground passage that led to Hogwarts. A few mice were inside the passage and nibbling away on the gigantic roots of the Whomping Willow; they scurried out of the way as his invisible body strode past them.

When he got to the end of the passage, Peter punched the knot at the base of the Willow's trunk to freeze it and then emerged out onto Hogwarts grounds.

The castle was as beautiful as ever: thousands of magically lit torches lighting up the windows of the towers, dark stone bricks that glowed in the night like stars as they radiated the ancient magic they were built with. It was perfect. It was home—but it was also a prison.

Peter held Harry tightly to his chest as he began to walk across the grounds towards the Forbidden Forest; the only thing that could discover him now was the centaurs. Peter laughed silently to himself; the centaurs were probably ignoring everything as usual and throwing a gigantic party to discuss the stars and destiny—tonight would be a great night for that.

Peter passed Hagrid's hut and cut through his pumpkin patch to enter the forest. Twigs and dried up leaves crinkled under his feet as he made his way through the colorful autumn trees. Nothing disturbed him and thirty minutes of walking later, he arrived at his destination: a large stone among many stones with a tiny snake carved into it. The snake was so unnoticeable he never would have seen it if he hadn't been told exactly where it was.

Peter placed his left hand against the snake and it came to life; it struck his palm, flicked its tongue over the fresh blood that oozed from his skin, and hissed.

Peter removed his hand, looked directly at the bloody snake on the rock, now standing up out of the rock like a cobra with its hood flared, and spoke:

"Naa laa saari ehari kisa ehh sto dehei kisa ich o no"

He had no idea what he'd actually said since he didn't understand a word of parseltongue. All he knew was that his master had drilled those words into him for years and he had been forced to practice practice practice until he was able to repeat the phrase over and over again, perfectly.

Hearing the words, the snake hissed once more before retreating back into the stone, absorbing all of Peter's blood with it. A second later, the stone vanished entirely and revealed a long, dark pathway Peter had traveled through many times over the years.

It was by complete accident that he'd found the passage to begin with in his fifth year. He still didn't know if he somehow managed to find it himself or if his master allowed him entrance. He never asked and never planned on doing so.

Once in the passage, Peter removed their invisibility and carried Harry through the dark, wet tunnels he had memorized ages ago. Down, down, down he walked until he eventually emerged into the Chamber of Secrets. The chamber was lit by magical torches that hung from the stone walls above each of the twelve basilisk statues. At the end of the chamber was a statue Peter hated with his entire being; Peter sneered at it. The statue of Merlin, long beard and all, a complete, perfect copy of him in his prime—built by Salazar himself as a tribute to the first-born wizard and turned into a prison for the constructor.

Peter wanted nothing more than to destroy the statue and bust out his master who'd been kept prisoner beneath it for over one thousand life-years. But, loathe as he was to admit it, Peter was nowhere near power enough. There was only one person powerful enough to perform the rituals, break the locks, and set his master free, and that person was currently fast asleep in his arms.

Peter walked to the base of the statue and knelt.

"Master," he said, "I've got him. It went exactly as you said it would. The killing curse rebounded. The heir is nothing but a wraith and part of his splintered soul attached itself to Harry. He has a scar like a bolt of lightning that contains it."

Nothing happened for a moment and then, from no visible source, strong winds suddenly appeared and began to flow through the chamber. It was as if a mighty tornado had appeared out of nowhere directly in front of Peter. The wind raged and raged making it impossible to hear a thing. Then, from the wind came a strong, powerful voice. It came as if it were directly spoken into Peter's ears; it carried from the wind and was perfectly clear:

"You've done well."

Peter smiled. "Thank you," he said. He basked in the praise for a moment. Peter felt immensely proud of himself. He was the only person in centuries to receive praise from Salazar Slytherin himself and that was certainly something to be proud of. After relishing the moment, Peter continued. "So what happens now...? What must I do?"

Again the wind answered:

"A ritual. A very old, very dangerous ritual. It is of the utmost importance. It must be done with precision. I will guide you through it."

Peter nodded in acceptance. Then, curious, he asked, "May I ask what the ritual is for?"

The wind seemed to chuckle before responding. "Of course, Peter, you can ask me anything, and to answer your question...you're going to remove Harry's soul."


End file.
